Perseverance Love Completeness Dignity Clarity Strength Readiness Support Responsibility Sincerity Happiness Serenity Honesty Purity Loyalty Freedom Harmony Joy Community Protection Eternity Power Hope Pride Verity Health Struggle Friendship Patience Openness Certainty Victory Honor Equality Persistence Modesty Longing Understanding Experience Innocence Belief Compassion Merit Sense Nobility Tenderness Knowledge Bliss Stability Creation

Ornament (lat. Ornamentum- decoration) is the oldest and basic decorative element in visual arts. The original meaning of ornaments was primarily symbolical, and then decorative, so it is possible to talk about the language of ornaments.

The purpose of ornament is historically determined, it subsequently lost its practical characteristics, became exclusively esthetical. Ornament reflects our ancestor’s unique view on basic and visible forces of the world. We can find different ornament variations in all civilisations and times, either representing a unique cult elementand cultural element, or being taken over from an older, or more advanced culture.

I find my inspiration in the tradition and cultural heritage, by putting thematically into the center of my interest I challenge the diverse artistic disciplines. By changing the motifs of plant ornaments, through the form of heartshape, I create new visual and aesthetic experiences. Combined technique of watercolor and embroidery on japan paper and egg tempera on canvas are the media I transpose my creative idea and the consistency of "women's artistic disciplines" that are distinguished by patience and perseverance.

Patience Honesty Serenity Belief Freedom Creation Happiness Longing Innocence Modesty Perseverance Love Completeness Responsibility Clarity Strength Readiness

Paul Klee

On Modern Art

Distinguished Ladies and Gentlemen!

If I now take the floor, standing close by some of my own work, and speak about that work, even though the work ought to speak for itself in its own language, I confess to a certain unease about whether there are sufficient reasons for my saying anything at all, and also whether I will say it in the right way.

For even though as a painter I feel myself to be in possession of the means, my own means, to set others in motion so that they will head in the same direction in which I feel myself driven, I do not feel as though I have been given the gift of words, at least not with the same sort of assurance, words by which to point us toward the proper paths.

Yet I console myself by noting that it is not my talk in isolation that addresses you, that the talk is meant merely to complement the impressions you yourselves will gain of my images; perhaps my words will provide certain coinages that otherwise might go missing.

If I should succeed in this, to some extent at least, then I will respect the good sense of my having taken up the assigned task of addressing you.

In order to avoid even further the odium that is captured in the expression, "Artist, make art, don't talk," I would like to volunteer some observations on the creative process; during the period in which a work receives its shape this process goes on more or less preconsciously. In my own subjective view, that is the only real justification for speeches by one who makes art, namely, to alter one's focus by finding new ways to observe.

In other words, to take some of the pressure off the formal side of things, which is consciously overburdened, by developing a new kind of intuition, and to try to emphasize somewhat more the content aspect. Reestablishing the equilibrium in this way would be exciting for me, and it would bring me much closer to a confrontation with art by means of words and concepts.

However, I would be thinking too selfishly here; I would be forgetting that most of you are probably more at home on the content side of things, less so on the formal side. And so I cannot really avoid saying something to you about these formal things.

I would therefore like to offer you a peek into the painter's workshop, and if we can do that, we will come to understand one another in other respects as well.

Some sort of common ground must exist between artists and others, a place where we can approach one another mutually, a common ground on which the artist need no longer appear to be a matter quite apart.

Where he may rather appear as a creature who, like you, did not ask to be dropped into this multifarious world of ours and who must make his or her way through it all just as you must.

Who may be different from you merely because of the specific means he has been given to rescue himself, so that sometimes he may be more fortunate than a person who cannot create at all, a person who can never arrive at the point where he can give things real form and in this way save himself.

Paul Klee delivered this lecture on January 26, 1924, at the Jena Kunstverein exhibition of his works.